


ingenuous

by Somnifery (somnifery)



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 10:43:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18119210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somnifery/pseuds/Somnifery
Summary: A quick vignette inspired by the allegiance quest.No spoilers, just soft baby Titan Lola being herself, and Drifter doing the same.





	ingenuous

“Gambit hours are over, snitch.”

Lola flinches at the way his voice curdles on the last word, the resentment there. She looks down at the pot in her hands, shifting her weight.

“I’m learning how to cook,” she says. Her voice is too quiet.

“What are you mumbling about?” The Drifter asks. He’s still not looking at her. Not directly, anyways.

Lola bites her cheek, then steps forward.

“I’m learning how to cook,” she says, once more. Louder, this time. “You’re always saying you’re hungry. So I brought you some of the food I made.”

“Yeah?” He looks at the pot, smile dubious. “Tryna poison me for your Praxic friend?”

Lola tries not to let her face betray how those words sting. By the look in his eyes, she knows she's failed.

“Here.” She moves to set the pot down-- Pauses, to use one hand to gently scoot his pile of coins aside-- then places it on the table. “I can’t guarantee it’s good, but I tried.”

He doesn’t say anything. He’s just watching her.

“Krish will want the pot back, I think. But I can replace it for him if I have to.”

“How long since you got rezzed, kid?”

The question isn’t nasty, but it isn’t sweet. The neutrality throws Lola off.

“I... “ She seems puzzled by the question. She’s counting, in her head. “Four months, I think.”

“Shit.” He shakes his head. She isn’t sure if she’s imagining the edge of anger in his voice-- Or is it sadness? “You really are a kid.”

Lola just stares at him, eyes flame bright before she glances down once more, pulling something out of her bag.

“So you don’t have to eat with your hands,” she says, setting the spoon on the table. “You can keep it, if you want.”

She doesn’t wait for him to provide some new barbed comment, some odd question. Instead, she turns and leaves, pulling her scarf over her head to shield against the biting wind of the Tower walkways.


End file.
